Listen up, idiots. I’ve been dealing with this shit all week:
Damn snow is out of control and the plows are piling walls of packed ice in front of my driveway that are worthy of Fort Knox. So I’m fired up right now. I’M FIRED UP! And when I’m cranky that’s when my food tastes best. It’s time for some belligerent cooking.
Today we’re making chipotle pork chili. This ain’t your mom’s chili with ground beef and mushrooms (puke!) and such. This chili is Xtreme (NOTE: it’s not “extreme” – it’s “Xtreme” – it’s so Xtreme that we need to emphasize the “X”).
Fun fact, growing up I thought chili was actually called “chilly” because we always ate it when it was cold outside. In other words, I thought you could only eat chili when it was chilly. I was a confused little boy. Shut up.
You’re going to need some stuff. If you don’t have an ingredient, stop your sniveling and go to the grocery store. I’m starting without you.
Put some oil in a pot. And stop calling pots “saucepans” for Christ’s sake. It’s a pot. Why are we expending all this effort with a superfluous syllable? You’re not impressing anyone with your fancy talk.
Add 1 chopped onion. Don’t make me give you the onion lecture again. If you skip the onion, you can skip this blog because nobody likes you.
Add a heaping tablespoon of chili powder. Derp – it’s called chili.
Add a teaspoon of oregano. Don’t ask questions.
Salt to taste. Don’t under-season. And don’t you dare over-season – we’re making chili, not “salti.”
Add a couple of chopped chipotle peppers. I used canned chipotles in adobe sauce because I’m a straight up badass. Freeze the peppers and sauce that you don’t use in a ziplock bag. Or don’t, you wasteful monster.
Let that sweat like C+C Music Factory (and if you don’t understand that reference, you’re dead to me).
Add some dead pig. I cubed up a pork loin centre roast. But you can use anything, as long as it used to oink.
Brown that for a bit and add some garlic. No vampires will be chowing down on this chili!!!!!!!!!! Hahahaha, I’m hilarious. You wish you had an ounce of my wit.
Now add a can of chopped tomatoes. Strain out the juices before adding if you want your chili to be thicker but then you would be a lunatic.
Let that cook for 15 minutes or so. You can use that quarter hour to figure what you’ve done wrong in your life.
Now add some kidney beans.
“What’s this?” you’re saying right now. “White beans?!! You can’t make chili with white beans!” Well, I didn’t have red kidney beans. I only had white beans. Deal with it. “But, but, but, but…” you whimper like a snivelling boob. Okay, listen up fool. Let’s conduct a thought experiment to help you get through this: suppose you do a blind taste test of a single white bean and a single red bean. If you correctly identify the red bean, you get a free bowl of chili. However, if you guess incorrectly, I get to slap your stupid face as hard as I can, just like this:
So would you accept this challenge? No? That’s what I thought. Okay, let’s proceed. Add some peppers. I use a mix of bell peppers and a few chopped up scotch bonnets because I’m not afraid of a little heat. Of course, you’re a candy-ass who still has nightmares about that 500 Scoville-unit banana pepper you once ate. God forbid you sweat a little and let those natural endorphins go to work. Go ahead and use the blandest peppers you can find so that you can continue to live out your pathetic white bread existence. Just know that if you skip the hot peppers your chili has been officially downgraded from “Xtreme” to “Rinkydink.”
Cook that for another half hour or so and it’s chow time. Fill up a bowl and sprinkle some grated cheese over it. It gets all melty and stuff. Dip some toast in there if you’re a real maverick. Enjoy your Rinkydink chili. You disgust me.
Serves: A bunch of people.
Nutritional information: There’s meat and vegetables so it must be good for you.
Rating: 5 stars out of 5 stars.